A Muggle's Tale
by Aebhel
Summary: Not entirely of his own accord, Dudley Dursley keeps coming into contact with the magical world. Spoilers for DH.
1. The Letter

Dudley Dursley graduated from Smeltings a year late, and at the bottom of his class. He got a good deal of ribbing about this from his school friends, all of whom were heading off to prestigious universities when he started his last year, and he dealt with it as gracefully as he could - which was to say, with a series of short but vicious fist-fights. He never spoke about the year he had taken off from school. If anyone asked, he'd shrug and say that his family had been spending time out of the country. He never spoke about his cousin, either, but Piers and the others were used to this, and did not consider it worth remarking on. Dudley and his cousin were as different as night and day, and had never gotten on well.

The letter came a few days after he graduated, while he was looking through his rejection letters from various universities and half-listening to his mother's diatribe against all the schools that had turned down her precious son. Dudley himself was not especially concerned about this; he'd gotten a boxing scholarship to a small school overseas, and had already determined to go. He was still trying to work out a way to break this to his mother that wouldn't result in her bursting into tears when the small, plain envelope slid out from between two papers and into his lap. It was addressed, succinctly, to "The Dursleys" and while there was no return address, Dudley thought he recognized the spiky handwriting.

He glanced up to see whether or not his mother was paying attention, but she had already segued into a tirade about the next-door neighbors and the state of their flowerbeds. She was standing at the sink, scrubbing at the dishes with such force that her frilly apron was liberally splashed with suds.

"...disgraceful, just look at them," she said loudly, squinting out the window at Mrs. Well's impeccably trimmed rosebushes.

Dudley nodded and muttered something in vague agreement, then, keeping the envelope under the table and out of his mother's sight, slit it open and pulled out the letter inside.

_To: Aunt Petunia, Uncle Vernon, Dudley_, it said, and Dudley sighed. Of all the bloody days his cousin could have chosen to write...

_I assume that you are well. I wrote last June to tell you that I am still alive. I wasn't planning to write again, but I think you should know that Ginevra Weasley and I plan to be married in three years time when I finish my training as an Auror. You haven't met Ginny - she's my friend Ron's younger sister. I have no idea whether or not you care in the least, but she talked me into writing this letter, and so here you are._

_Enclosed is a post-office box address. If you want to write, send any letters there by Muggle mail and I'll get them._

_Harry._

A photograph was folded in with the letter: Harry, with his arm around a pretty redhead. There seemed to be something wrong with the picture and Dudley squinted at it for several minutes, almost dropping it when he realized that both people were moving. The girl - Ginny - kept glancing at a small, sparkling stone on her left hand, and sunlight was glinting off of Harry's glasses. They were both grinning shyly at the camera.

Dudley looked at the photograph for a long time before deciding that it wasn't likely to discover any additional tricks and stuffing it, and the letter, into his pocket.

Petunia looked over at him when he stood up. "Is something wrong, darling?"

"'M going out for a smoke," Dudley grunted.

She gave him a reproachful look. "Sweetums, I wish you wouldn't...your father will be home soon and I thought we could all go out to a nice dinner to celebrate your graduation..."

"Sorry, Mum," Dudley said, and escaped before she could say anything more.


	2. Contemplation

Privet Drive was quite empty when Dudley emerged from the house, lighting his cigarette with hands that shook slightly. He took a deep drag and shoved the half-empty pack and his lighter back into his pocket, fancying that he felt a slight squirm from the magical photograph that already occupied it. He pushed the thought away, firmly. The photograph was just a photograph, and he had at any rate seem much stranger things in the past few years. Harry was generally a decent sort and he, Dudley, didn't think his cousin would really go out of his way to send something nasty.

Still, though...he patted his pocket again, and sighed when he found it reassuringly motionless. He settled onto a bench in the front lawn under a large tree, quite aware that his mother was watching him worriedly through the kitchen blinds. She'd been like that ever since he'd come back from school, and he couldn't decide what to make of it. Oh, she'd always been the hovering sort, he was used to that although he did his best to hide it from his mates - but this was something different, and he was quite baffled as to its cause.

He flicked a bit of ash into the tall grass - his father had fired the boy who came to mow their lawn once a week, and hadn't got around to hiring anyone else - and leaned back, staring up into the green canopy overhead. It had been a long week, and it was almost surreal to be back at home with his mum and dad, as though the year before last had never happened and his strange cousin had never existed. Dudley had thought he'd be delighted to have Harry out of the house at last - his cousin's sharp wit always made him feel slow and thick, and the unexpected things that had always happened when Harry was around were downright frightening - now that it had happened, things were...well. Strange.

His eyes, which had slid closed of their own accord, snapped open as his father's car pulled into the driveway. He glanced around for a place to hide the cigarette, but it was too late - the car door was opening, and his father had already spotted him...

The remonstration he was half expecting never came. Vernon Dursley shut the car door behind him and lifted a hand to his son with a weariness that was only half-feigned.

"Ah, Dudders," he said ponderously, "don't suppose you could spare a smoke for your old Dad, could you?"

Dudley gaped for a moment, but his father just smiled wanly. Two years and a heart attack had wrought quite a change in him, and he seemed like a pale, thin imitation of the roaring giant of Dudley's childhood. Dudley thought about mentioning that the doctors had said that he wasn't to smoke anymore, then thought better of it, closed his mouth, and dug into his pockets for the cigarettes and lighter.

Vernon lit the cigarette, turning his back deliberately to the kitchen windows. "Best not to let your Mum see," he said in a conspiratorial whisper.

"I already told her I was out here. She's been a bit..." Dudley trailed off, and tapped his left temple to indicate loopiness.

His father nodded. "Ah, well, she's just worried about you going off on your own, you know. Going to be left with just me for company." He chuckled at his own joke.

Dudley nodded. They finished their cigarettes in silence and went back inside, ignoring the tearful glances that Petunia kept throwing in their directions.

* * *

That night, after they got home from dinner, Dudley pulled the crumpled bit of paper out of his pocket and stared at it for a long time before getting out a sheet of notebook paper and beginning, painstakingly, to write. 


	3. Breakfast

Breakfast at the Burrow was a somewhat more subdued affair than Harry remembered from his early years at Hogwarts. Hermione was spending the summer with her parents before starting her apprenticeship, and Percy was staying with George in his Diagon Alley flat. Ostensibly, this was because it was closer to the Ministry of Magic and therefore more convenient, but Harry privately thought that Percy just didn't want his younger brother left alone.

Even after a year, it made him a little sad, but he smiled brightly at Mrs. Weasley as she bustled into the room, directing a steaming pot of coffee with her wand. She beamed at him.

"Good morning, Harry dear. Ron not up yet?"

"No, he's - " Harry made a vague gesture toward the ceiling with the hand holding his coffee.

"Layabout," she said irritably. "If he's not down by the time kippers are done, I've a good mind to go up there and haul him out of bed by the ear, nineteen years old or not. I don't know what's gotten into him lately, disappearing for hours at a time, sleeping till noon...do you know," she said suddenly, rounding on Harry with her wand held like a weapon, "this year is the first time he hasn't been at the table by the time I put breakfast on the stove?"

Harry shrugged, not quite meeting her eyes. He knew exactly what had gotten into Ron, but he didn't think it would be a wise plan to share it with Ron's mother. She had taken it poorly when Percy had declined to move back home after the Battle of Hogwarts, and he didn't like to think what she'd say when she found out that he and Ron had been surreptitiously looking at flats. And if she knew that Ron and Hermione had been going for midnight broomstick rides over London...

Mercifully, he was saved from having to answer by Errol, who flew in the window, landed on the table in front of him, and promptly tumbled over into the butter dish. Harry rolled his eyes as the owl blinked up at him, innocently, then picked himself up and waddled to the edge of the table, holding out his left foot with the letter attached.

The letter was addressed to a post office in Diagon Alley that Harry vaguely remembered setting up at Mrs. Weasley's insistance. It was smudged and a bit crumpled, and he didn't recognize the large, awkward handwriting. He slit it open.

The letter was typed on a sheet of computer paper, and Harry had to squint to read the small black letters, it had been so long since he'd read anything that wasn't written with a quill pen.

**Dear Harry.**

**Congratulations on getting engaged. She's very pretty.**

**I am going to school in America this fall. Mum and Dad aren't very happy about it, but I think it will be fun. I am going on a wrestling scholarship. I wrote the address down at the bottom of the letter because I might be there when you get this. I don't know how long mail takes with your people.**

**Mum says congratulations too.**

**Dudley.**

Harry stared at the letter for a long time, brow furrowed.

"What have you got there, dear?" Mrs. Weasley asked, setting a plate of bacon and eggs down in front of him. Harry wordlessly handed the letter over and watched as she scanned it. After a moment, she looked up and beamed. "Well, isn't that nice. Ginny will be so pleased to know that your family is as happy for you two as we are. Now, I'm going to go drag that son of mine out of bed - don't wait on me, dig in..."

She set the letter down beside his plate and marched out of the room. Harry thought about Apparating up to warn Ron before his mother got hold of him, then decided that discretion was the better part of valor and spooned up a mouthful of eggs.


End file.
